In her searching about the prow, Perrine found a handful of items worth a few shillings- a half-empty bottle of ink, three flasks of oil, a chipped set of ceramic plates, and a small pouch of sugar -but nothing worth a full meal or a night of drinking. She came out of the prow with the limber nature of a prowling cat, rather remarkable considering the amount of alcohol she'd consumed only an hour or so ago, and tied back her hair as the wind picked up a little. She should wrap up this search soon in case the weather changed abruptly (as it often did on the seashore) and so Perrine headed into the belly of the ship, dropping down through the main hatch on the floor. "Anthony?" Didn't seem like he was in here, he must have gone to the prow. Well, he probably saw her lantern light disappear down here, and the hatch was open in case he needed to call down for her. She started looking about and winced at a decomposing body in the shadows. Two years ago, she would have turned and vomited, then promptly left, but she'd developed a stronger stomach in the time since then. The cargo hold, further below, was mostly undamaged and only a foot underwater; this surprised Perrine considering this part of the ship was at least ten feet below the normal water level. There were barrels of spices and gunpowder that had been ruined by the water and thus were of no monetary worth- but then when she lifted the lid off a barrel far in the corner, her eyes widened. She quickly put the lid back on and looked around for a large piece of cloth, or something similar- there, a damp piece of sail. She slung it over the body, murmuring a Christian prayer in French for the dead man, then called up through the hatch, "Anthony? Anthony, I think you'll want to see this!"